


Keepin' Me Hot Like July Forever

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Kinktober 2019 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Come Eating, Heats/Ruts, Kinktober Day 3: Distention, M/M, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 21:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20881061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Gladio deals with tradition.





	Keepin' Me Hot Like July Forever

He’s so fucking _ tiny. _

That’s the worst part of all this. Tradition it might be, for the guardian Amicitias to breed their charges during the first heat of both, but _ fuck _Gladio was hoping for the kid to hit a goddamned growth spurt at least. The only consolation is that the seed of the first heat is infertile, so he’s not going to be fucking impregnating his charge and swelling that tiny belly even further.

At least Noctis is feeling good. That’s a balm to his feelings, even if the kid’s making choked-off little sobs and panting and shaking like he’s been skinned alive. Probably has to do with the fact that Gladio’s buried as deep as he can get, and just keeps grinding in further. Not a proper fucking, not even close, but this feels too good to let go of. Gladio can come like this, and be happy. 

He’s so fucking tiny, all pale skin like dying stars, save the rich red that crawls over his face and down the back of his neck. It’s adorable, that he blushes that far down. Gladio wants to mark him up, has to keep reminding himself he _ can’t, _because this isn’t supposed to be about mating, but learning each other. A trust exercise, his father had called it, and Gladio wants to laugh. It’s one hell of a fucking trust exercise, if the size difference has kept up throughout the entire history of the lines.

Makes him wonder if his dad felt like this too, when he had the King under him that first time. 

“Gladio,” Noctis wheezes, shakes, whimpers, claws at the bedspread like it will grant him mercy. “Please, fuck, _ please.” _

He can’t say no to that. He can’t. Noctis is a godsdamned brat but he’s _ Gladio’s brat, _ and he’s got his tiny fucking hands wrapped around his heart almost all the fucking time. So he grips the pale hips tight enough to bruise, grits his teeth and tells himself _ don’t you dare fucking come yet, you owe this brat every fucking ouce of pleasure you can wring out of him, don’t you fucking _ ** _dare, _ ** _ you sonnavabitch, _and then pulls back and slams back in. 

The shriek it gets him is pure music to his ears, and Gladio can’t stop the growl that escapes him as he watches the bulge in Noctis’ stomach move to match his thrusts. He slows, grinds deep, and then pulls out and does it again, and again, and again. 

After a point, it becomes impossible to hold back. So he doesn’t. He folds Noctis up and fucks him hard and fast, lets Noctis grip his hair tight as he comes, voice little more than a croak as he splatters himself with seed. The faint whisper of Gladio’s name he utters as he collapses to the bed beneath him is enough to send Gladio tipping over the edge too, eyes clenched tightly shut as he floods Noctis’ body. 

“Fuck,” Noctis breathes, when it’s over, and they’re both panting. “S’good thing I can’t get pregnant right now, or I think I’d be telling Dad he’s gonna be a grandpa for sure.”

He’s not wrong, and the bulge that has more than doubled in size speaks of it. Gladio would apologize, but then he’d actually have the be sorry about what he just did. 

He grabs one of the towels they placed on the side of the bed just for this reason, lifting Noctis with a hand to place it beneath him, and then a second, and a third, before lowering him back. Then he pulls out, puts a hand over the bulge, and _ pushes. _

The noise Noctis makes as all Gladio’s spend comes back out of him is obscene, but Gladio dutifully keeps pushing. The towels are soaked within moments, and Gladio grabs the other three, slipping them in place of the soiled ones when the mess slows. Noctis’ body clenches around empty air, his body left gaping in the wake of it’s first sexual encounter. The sight of it makes Gladio’s mouth water, and a terrible idea cross his mind.

So long as it doesn’t endanger his charge, there are still options on the table. And Noctis is still half-cocked, ready for more. 

When the last of the mess is out, the towels are bundled up to be put in a hamper, and discreetly taken off to get burned. The Amicitia produce too much sperm to salvage anything used for cleanup. Gladio is no exception.

“Should get you cleaned up.”

“Don’t wanna move.”

“Don’t gotta,” Gladio informs him, and then lifts his hips with an arm and lowers his head. 

He’s never done this, but it’s not exactly rocket science. He has Noctis babbling and pulling his hair again within seconds, and it’s only a few moments in when he cries out and comes again, body tightening down on Gladio’s tongue in a desperate attempt to keep it there. Gladio gives one last lick at the twitching rim, and then pulls back to survey his work.

Noctis is flushed all the way to his chest, body gleaming with sweat and cum, panting as he lays quivering on the bedspread. His cock is soft, and unlikely to rise again, no matter what kind of coaxing Gladio does. Not that he wants to - he can feel the heat passing, the urge to rut fading by the wayside in favor of pampering his Prince instead. 

So he goes to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth, and begin the second phase of their trust exercise.


End file.
